Only Human
by SlyMafia
Summary: "I don't know...with you, it's different, I guess." Felicity bristled, pausing in her assault of the container of ice cream. "Different as in, good different or bad different, because I swear - " Oliver laughed. "Good different, Felicity." He paused for a moment, as if unsure if he should continue or not. "Something about you just...reminds me that I'm still human." (Slight AUish)
1. Brown Eyes & Breathless Smiles

A/N.

So, if there was an Alternate Universe tag for fanfiction, I would probably put this in there. It's not that I am changing the story that much, but there will be changes and I feel like I should warn you guys in advance.

For one, in my story, Felicity Smoak is African-American. No, this does not mean that I hate her for who she is now. In fact, I adore this babbly angelface/bitch-with-wifi. She's glorious and I love her to death and she contributes greatly to the story. However, this story has been stuck in my head for about two weeks and I just can't help myself. So, I'm just going to put this out there now – if you don't like me changing the ethnicity/nationality of a character or particular situations within the story, hit the back button now. Do not flood the comments area with foolishness, ignorance, and cutthroat commentary that really are unnecessary. Not only does it irritate me and will possibly irritate other readers, but it just makes you seem more childish than you need to be. After all, it is MY fanfic and MY views.

I guess I should just start this by giving you the reason why I changed her into a person of color. Not only is there a lack in regards to the representation of characters of color, even if you do have those characters the writers fail to positively portray them or provide the audience with enough character development/screen time. I hate that. And I possibly could just go into detail about Lyla and Diggle's individual stories (which I might still do anyway) but this also stems from just a need to see if this could work.

So, if you are still with me, thanks and please enjoy. Give me criticism and review me to your best ability. Do you like the story? If not, what makes it incapable of being compelling or interesting enough for you? Be honest, but please remember to be respectful.

Oh yeah! After this chapter, I promise to not post many author notes unless absolutely needed. They mess me up with my word count and also, they are tiresome – not just for me, but readers as well.

Summary: A true love story does not always begin with their eyes meeting and sparks flying instantly. It is in the moments afterwards – the legendary looks, the lingering touches, embraces that catch you by surprise. Most of all, it is in the way you learn that in order to be with that special person, you need to be able to be better. And who can tell you that better than Oliver Queen? (AU-ish with a somewhat OC Felicity Smoak)

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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><p>If Oliver Queen were ever to admit to a time when he truly felt normal and not like some endangered species in the presence of others after his return from Lian Yu, it would have to be the moment he met <em>her. <em>Ever since his return, the public required him to be not just Oliver Queen, son of the great Moira Queen and the departed but equally great Robert Queen, but as _Ollie_. He was to be composed and yet, still reckless. Maybe even more reckless than before. He was supposed to be the easy-going and over-protective brother and the good-for-nothing-but-loveable best friend. He was supposed to be Moira's son, her precious baby boy. And it was fine for a moment; he could pretend. However, shrieks of misery and icy pricks of rain pelting down on him from the tumultuous skies wrecked his once dreamless nights, lending to the now tension-wracked six-foot-two frame.

"Felicity Smoak?"

She was not looking at the files that her boss wanted her to look over or the countless emails sent by fellow employees who still didn't know the simplicity of actually saving work instead of letting them 'somehow' escape to the dark recesses of the internet. Actually, to be completely honest, she was in the middle of a rather juicy fanfic (yes, she reads fanfic and likes it, you got a problem?) when a very much unfamiliar voice crept to her ears. Smooth yet somehow still rough with a gravelly undertone that knocked her from her reverie, Felicity looked up, eyes wide and teeth sunk deeply into the tip of her covered pen, plump lips the same shade as the object in her hands. Quickly and as nimbly (it wasn't so nimble, she can admit) as she could, she snatched the pen out of her mouth and turned fully in her chair, staring into steely blue eyes.

"Hi, I'm Oliver Queen."

This shouldn't be too hard, right? A rather unremarkable girl in the IT department who could help him access the files on a wrecked computer? Known as pretty much the smartest one in her department? It shouldn't be too hard, he mused, to coerce her into doing what he wanted. Besides, it was a quick in-and-out operation, very simple. This Felicity stared at him quietly for a minute, mouth somewhat ajar and her hands frozen on her desk. Some part of him found her deer-caught-in-headlights look entertaining, but he squashed that down in favor of a charming and harmless smile/grimace.

"Of course," she exclaimed, a lot more enthusiastically than she intended. _Shit! Shit! Shit!_ Was her internal dialogue. _Tone it down._ "I know who you are. You're…you're Mr. Queen."

"Noooo! Mr. Queen was my father."

"Right, but he's dead," came her off-handed and entirely not-meant-to-be-rude-but-it-probably-was response, and Felicity cringed. Shaking off the ever-present word vomits, she continued, "I-I-I mean, he drowned." _Not helping._ "But you didn't…which means…you can come down to the IT department and…listen to me babble…which will end in 3…2…1…" _Fuck! Fuck!_ She knew she screwed up at this point and turned away, teeth trying to break the plush flesh of her lower lip as she squeezed her pen like it was some kind of life line. _If I lose my job for this…_

She didn't see the surprised and amused expression on his face.

Oliver was stunned and even more-so, grateful than Felicity took that time to turn her head. Since returning home, nothing had truly struck him up until this point. Immediately upon her verbal outburst, he thought he should have felt something akin to disgust or offense. She pretty much reminded him – and anyone else who could have been near her tiny cubicle – about the _one_ thing everyone in his life was tip-toeing around. But she was didn't do that and it caught him off guard. She talked like a normal person…at least normal in the sense that was normal for her. It pleased him. It left him shocked. It left him…

…_breathless_.

Felicity would never see how wide his smile actually was when she turned around.

"I'm having some trouble with my computer and they told me that you were the person to come and see," he said and delicately placed the damaged device on her small desk. Why was everything so small down here? With the amount of items surrounding her, it surprised him that the space was as suffocating and tiny as it was. How did she even _function_?

Her office (it was a cubicle and she really shouldn't think of it as an office because offices were bigger and obviously, this was _not_ an office and damn it, she was babbling even in her head!) was the last thing on Felicity's mind. Her eyes took in the tattered laptop, eyebrows rising and skepticism on her face as Oliver continued to speak. "I was at my favorite coffee shop surfing the web and I spilled a latte on it."

"Really?" Definitely more of a statement than a question, but Oliver didn't budge nor was he going to acknowledge that the look she was sporting now definitely had him folding his arms over his chest defensively.

"Yeah."

"Cuz these," she gestured to the very much obvious indentations on the cover of the computing device, "look like bullet holes."

"My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood."

If Felicity's skeptical look a few seconds prior had him feeling like a shitty liar, the look that morphed on her face afterwards had his palms sweating for a moment. Oliver even had to clear his throat. Felicity reclined in her seat at that point, head drawn back as she appeared to almost size him up for a second, eyes scrutinizing and one of her eyebrows quirked just-so. It was unnerving that this girl, a girl who looked very much harmless when he first appeared, could look almost…intimidating. Dark hair, gathered in a sleek ponytail with large curls near the ends, bounced off her shoulder when she had first turned to him and eyes almost the same color had once been wide and bright. Now, they darkened with her mood and her full mouth was set in a frown of some sort.

But again, this shouldn't be hard. He just had to be firm and remind her that he was, in fact, _Mr. Queen_, even if he hated being addressed as such. It made him feel old. Which, given the way he was handling his young life, should have sounded a lot more appealing, but Oliver shook his head a little and smiled, trying to be the suave Oliver Queen from five years ago. He had not changed that much and surely, if the articles Tommy teased him about via text messaging about how attractive Oliver Queen still was said anything, surely Felicity could fall prey to it as well.

"If there is anything that you could salvage from that, I would really appreciate it," he said, hoping that his smile was genuine enough to appease her. And it almost didn't.

Felicity was still almost insulted that this man thought for two seconds that she would believe his bullshit excuse about this laptop. Bad neighborhood, really? Did he really expect her to believe that his little rich boy self would be caught dead in a _bad neighborhood_? Some of her friends (co-workers and associates, really, because most of her friends lived elsewhere but that is beside the point) might think that Felicity could be a tad naïve at times, but if there was one thing she was not it was unintelligent. And because she was far more intelligent than _Oliver Queen_ seemed to give her credit for, she almost referred him to someone else.

_Almost._

"Sure," her voice dripping with more sass and exasperation than she intended, but at that point, she could hardly care. Oliver grimaced. "I'll see what I can do."

Five minutes later and Oliver was in a chair beside her – a small one that left him at least one level shorter than her or at least, on her level (and he suspected that she did it purposefully) – and Felicity's hands were in a flurry over the keyboard, eyes focused on the screen. Felicity hummed inquisitively and her mouth twisted to the left, lips pursing somewhat.

"It looks like blueprints," she told him finally and glanced at the brooding countenance of the man beside her.

"Do you know what of?"

"The Exchange Building."

"Never heard of it." If he was actually paying attention, Oliver would have seen the flash of indignation on Felicity's face. _Nope, not even gonna ask that question…_

"It's where the Unidac Industries' auction is scheduled to take place," she informed him and reclined in her seat once more, eyes narrowed slightly as she awaited his response.

As Oliver processed that information, Felicity picked up her neglected pen, nibbling on the tip; it was a habit she picked up back in high school and one she could never kick even if she wanted to. But that wasn't important. What was important was the obviously lost expression on Mr. Queen's face. The corners of her mouth rose knowingly and an eyebrow rose.

"And you still expect me to believe that this is _your_ laptop?" Oliver swallowed, but nodded.

"Yes."

"Okay, look," Felicity began, turning her swivel chair so that she was completely facing Oliver. Boss's son-in-law or whatever that relationship was, or not, she was not risking her job for this. As much as Felicity hated asking basic IT questions on a regular and doing maintenance work, she was working with one of the best companies on the East Coast. There was no way in hell that she was going to lose her job because some rich boy wanted to sneak into company files. "I'm not trying to get in the middle of some Shakespearean family drama thing…"

Felicity felt appalled at the utterly confused expression his face.

"What?"

"Mr. Steele marrying your mom," Felicity specified. Oliver still wasn't with her and she sighed. "Claudius and Gertrude..." Still no budge. "Hamlet?"

"I didn't study Shakespeare at any of the four schools that I went to," he admitted. "I dropped out."

"Wow, aren't you privileged?"

If ever Oliver felt like an idiot, it was then – when the blankness on Felicity Smoak's face, a relative stranger, spoke more words than her mouth could at that moment. The sarcastic quip a moment earlier left little to his imagination and he suspected she probably had a lot more so say, and yet didn't. Felicity bit the inside of her cheek, actually thought better of herself (because she could feel the ranting bubbling up within her), and then returned their attention back to the computer screen.

"Mr. Steele is trying to buy Unidac Industries," she explained. Oliver nodded slowly. "And you brought me a company laptop associated with one of the guys that he is competing against."

"Floyd Lawton."

"No," Felicity corrected. "Warren Patel." Oliver followed her gaze, his jaw clenched. Things just became a lot more complicated. "Who's Floyd Lawton?"

"He is an employee of Mr. Patel…evidently," Oliver said distractedly, all the while thinking about the possibilities. It was a location in which any shot could be taken at _all_ of Deadshot's targets – _any_ shot. And how could he have not seen this before? And how could he even –

"So, what are you gonna do?" Felicity's inquiry brought him from his thoughts and distractedly, Oliver met her questioning gaze. Her eyes were brown, not as dark as he originally thought. A nice medium brown shade that reminded him of melted milk chocolate with a depth that you would not have noticed behind her glasses, not at the distance they had been at before. But he didn't have time to muse over something as trivial as some girl's eyes.

The Vigilante had to make plans.

"I've gotta go." Felicity blinked in surprise.

"Just…like…that?" Oliver moved quickly and was already exiting her cubicle.

"Yes."

"W-wait…your laptop…" Oliver was already gone by the time the words left her lips and Felicity frowned, tossing her pen down on the table. "You could at least say thank you," she grumbled and closed the device before shaking her head. She didn't have time to worry about him. Her phone had just begun to ring anyway.


	2. Damn Your Face

Summary: A true love story does not always begin with their eyes meeting and sparks flying instantly. It is in the moments afterwards – the legendary looks, the lingering touches, embraces that catch you by surprise. Most of all, it is in the way you learn that in order to be with that special person, you need to be able to be better – not for their sake, but because you want to be. And who can tell you that better than Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak? (AU-ish with a somewhat OC Felicity Smoak)

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Also, if you're interested in who I am modeling Felicity after, you can find the actress on my page...or look her up. It's Jurnee Smollett-Bell.

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><p>"I need your help," Oliver exclaimed the second she arrived off the elevator and a small smirk played at the corner of her mouth.<p>

"Is that our thing now?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly?"

"Yes." Felicity huffed indignantly at Oliver and stepped into the room with glass walls, surprised to see quiet brown-skinned man perched on the desk. Her eyebrows knit together for a moment and she glanced back at Oliver inquisitively. "Felicity Smoak, meet my bodyguard, John Diggle," Oliver said. Instinctively (and he was beginning to think she didn't have control over it because it occurred whenever she felt like she heard fuckery – her word, not his) Felicity's left eyebrow rose and she turned to John with a sympathetic look.

"They've got you on babysitting duty?" Taken aback, John blinked. After a beat, and freely, he chuckled before straightening his face at Oliver's glower.

"Gratuitously."

"Okay, we need your help," Oliver stated and the two shared an amused smirk before returning their attention back to the man in question. Oliver gestured to the computer and with a somewhat dramatic sigh, Felicity traipsed over to it. Her fingertips slowly grazed over the smooth surface of the laptop's cover.

"And it doesn't have bullet holes in it this time." Sarcasm laced with mock enthusiasm was utterly amusing to Oliver because instead of his usual brooding expression, a thoroughly entertained smile flitted across his ridiculously attractive face. She hated his face at this point. Stupid face. John laughed at her expression.

"He's just full of surprises, huh?" Instead of turning to the bodyguard, her eyes remained on Oliver Queen, who now sat with a knowing smirk and eyes brighter than they were the first time she saw them.

"Yeah, surprisingly."

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><p><em>"No."<em>

_"I didn't even say anything."_

_"You didn't have to, now get off my seat." Felicity grumbled something unintelligent, probably about nosy redheads and incessant texting. Not like her friend (and she was reluctant to admit this sometimes) Angela cared. Instead of being put off by her companion's reaction, she hopped out of the chair and propped herself up on Felicity's desk. She crossed her long tanned legs, green eyes staring expectantly at the brunette in question. When Felicity finally set her purse down, she noticed her friend's presence. "What?"_

_Angela didn't say anything._

_She just pulled the envelope from behind her back._

_"To Felicity Smoak," she began and before she could go any further, Felicity snatched the crisp white envelope from Angela's hand. Not perturbed, Angel waited expectantly._

_"What?"_

_"I heard it through the grape vine that Oliver Queen was in your office the other day."_

_"It's a cubicle," Felicity corrected. "And so what?"_

_"Yeah…soooo….what?" Felicity deadpanned at the fierce curiosity shining in Angela's eyes._

_"Are you serious?"_

_"Yes. A man as fine as that comes down to our department and you expect me to think it was nothing?"_

_"Well, yeah." Angela stared impassively and Felicity could feel a migraine coming on._

_She really didn't have time for this. She had not seen Oliver Queen in nearly a week and people were already giving her side-eyes and probably whispering about her whenever she left rooms. She could feel the stares and the silences upon her arrival were deafening. She even nearly blew up one day when Margaery from Financing sneered at her after she ran an errand. After all, Oliver Queen had come down to her cubicle – once! What did these people think, she'd jump him here? Of all places?_

_"I didn't know you and Mr. Queen were such great friends," Angela remarked and Felicity gave her a look and the glanced at the envelope in her hand. It was clearly for her; it had her name on it. And the handwriting, to her surprise, was actually attractive. Neat and somewhat elegant in its cursive delivery._

_"We're not." Angela raised an eyebrow. "He just needed a quick fix." Felicity obviously was not on the same mind track as Angela because she did not catch the implications of her words until she noticed the all-too excited and scandalously-inquisitive expression that brightened up her friend's face. Her answering reaction was horror. "Oh, come on! His computer, Ang! He needed his computer fixed and I fixed it for him. It's my job."_

_"Uh huh…sure," Angela replied and Felicity rolled her eyes, exasperated. She knew she would be needing some kind of Aspirin before the day was over at this point._

_Swiping back a rebellious curl that had abstained from being confined by her ponytail holder like the rest of its brothers and sisters, Felicity tore the paper envelope open, pulling out a thank-you card. Despite her earlier discontent with her prior encounter with Oliver, a small smile formed on her face as she gingerly held the light blue object in her hands. Just as she opened, a small object fell out of and onto her lap. Surprised, Felicity grasped it only to gasp._

_Did he really get her a gift card to Alexander McQueen?_

_Angela whistled._

_"Someone sounds grateful."_

_"I am."_

_Two pairs of unsuspecting eyes turned to see Oliver Queen leaning against the wall of Felicity Smoak's cubicle, a more than amused expression on his face. Stupidly, Felicity just stared while Angela quickly straightened herself up, standing now and smoothing the satin fabric of her blouse. Felicity shouldn't have been surprised._

_"Mr. Queen," she exclaimed. "Angela Fassbender. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." If Angela would have turned around, she would have seen Felicity giving her one hell of a glare. It was that reason that had Oliver giving the redhead a genuine and light-hearted smile._

_"Likewise."_

_"My apologies, but I was not aware that you and my good friend, Felicity here, were friends." Felicity's glare quickly was directed at him and despite himself (he really should work on his guard when he was around this girl), Oliver chuckled._

_"It's…still a work in progress. Before Angela could say another word, Felicity cut her off._

_"Don't you have work, Miss Fassbender?" Smirking, Angela glanced at her friend over her shoulder, a flash of amusement and mischief in her shining green eyes. The curve of her lips was a promise; Angela wasn't going to let this go. Felicity really hated stupid pretty people sometimes. They made her feel some type of way and she did not like it. Instead of acknowledging her friend's expression, Felicity focused completely on the man in front of her, who was surprisingly taller than her cubicle, but that thought was for another time._

_"Right," Angela exclaimed and turned back to smile at Oliver. "It was a pleasure to meet you." Upon Oliver's nod, she made moves to leave, but not before wiggling her fingers conspiratorially at Felicity. Shaking her head in mock annoyance, Felicity stared expectantly at Oliver. He only nodded to the cards in her hand._

_"I see you got my gift." If you could call it that, she thought._

_Who the hell got people gift cards to designer stores? Don't misinterpret her reaction! Felicity Smoak was ever grateful for it, she was. Before, she actually thought that Oliver had forgotten all about her and their encounter, which would have been good. She could have dealt with it. Sure, she helped him and she liked it when people acknowledged when she helped them. It made her feel good. After all, tapping into a destroyed computer was not an easy feat. But she had been prepared for him to go on about his merry way with his rich little friends and his extravagant lifestyle._

_But he did not._

_"Yeah, I was surprised." Oliver's brow furrowed._

_"Do you not like it?" He had asked Thea what she thought young women would like for thank-you gifts. Flowers felt too intimate at the time and a simple card would have sufficed, but it felt so bland. Then again, asking a teenager what a woman who was probably in her twenties (Oliver really should look that up to be sure) would want probably wasn't his greatest move. But it was the thought that counted, right? Besides, he could always return it and get her another, some else if she preferred._

_"No…I mean, no yes, not no, no," Felicity replied quickly in one breath before biting her lip. God, she should probably stop talking. "That probably didn't make any sense, and I suck…at words, so…I like it. A lot. I've never actually shopped here before." Appeased, Oliver smiled. "Thank you."_

_"No, thank you. I was grateful the other day, but I rushed off without saying it and I just wanted to come back to tell you…that I am grateful." Felicity nodded in acceptance, a less composed smile on her face. And Oliver, well, he liked this look on her. There was something easy about the way she smiled at him this time. Her full lips, which were painted in a raspberry shade now, parted to reveal straight white teeth and he could actually see the indentations in her rounded cheeks. Even her eyes appeared brighter than before. Her hair was curlier, he noted. Oliver noted, he discovered, a lot about Felicity Smoak._

_Like, how for someone with such a small space, she made it work. It was organized and yet, every part of it was a reflection of her. The sticky notes on the walls with little memes in some bright ink and rushed yet elegantly legible writing, the picture frames with photos of people and two of herself smiling with friends, the little cup of pens with tops that had different colors – all of them trademarks of her, or at least, what he envisioned as her. He even noted her wardrobe, how he doubted that she wore too many overly dark or unflattering colors. The first time they had met consisted of a pale pink blouse that brought out the brown of her skin and a red lipstick that pretty much brightened her face. Today, she wore ivory and a pink lipstick. Why he paid such attention to this girl was a mystery to him, but then again, there were a lot of things that had Felicity Smoak finding her way to his thoughts. And it should have irked him; he had far more pressing matters to be mulling over._

_But it didn't._

_"Hey, stop it with your face!" Felicity's indignant snapping snatched Oliver from his thoughts and he blinked in confusion before fixing her with a curious gaze. Which, in her opinion, looked absolutely…adorable. And Oliver Queen had not come across to her as adorable in any way._

_"My what?"_

_"Your…face…" Felicity looked, well, positively petulant at that moment and Oliver – who did not seem to have much control over himself and his emotions as he originally had believed – smiled, a small laugh escaping. "See! You're doing it again…so stop!" Even if she wanted to, Felicity couldn't not feel some elation, even as she felt something heavy fall onto her chest._

_Of course, Felicity thought Oliver Queen was attractive. Who didn't? Along with his tall frame, Oliver's physique was rather muscular and fit – a lot more fit than a man who had been stranded an island for five year should have been, but that was for an argument on another day. His skin was lightly tanned, which made the gold in his dark blond hair and the blue in his eyes stand out. With stubble that too many enthusiastic bloggers had written nearly smutty articles about and a voice that would probably sound all too sensually-stimulating at night, Oliver was definitely as fine as Angela had said earlier. But at that moment, standing in front of her article in his dark jacket and smile, Oliver Queen had never looked more attractive._

_It must have been the way that his eyes seemed to catch some wayward beam from the sun through the not-so-closed (and she suspected that Angela opened them upon her arrival) blinds behind Felicity's desk that made them flash, electric blue, and hit her right in the chest. It could have been the way the laugh broke though the cool stoic expression that she had once associated him with since his return from the island, how he couldn't contain it and didn't seem to want to and how easily that action seemed to brighten his very aura. It could have very well been that smile that seemed to shed light on the shadows of his face, how that uplifting of his mouth suddenly made him…different._

_"Well, if you're done laughing at me, I have to get back to work, Mr. Queen," she reminded him crisply but not cruelly, trying to turn away and forget that she really had been pretty much gawking at the magnificence that was Oliver Queen for far too long. Oliver stared at for her a lot longer than she felt comfortable with him doing and subconsciously, Felicity swiped at that ever-rebellious curl. As if she had broken him from his thoughts (she really seemed to do that a lot, huh?), Oliver blinked before nodding in understanding, straightening up now._

_"Sure thing. I'll leave you to it," he said quickly, gave a short wave, and then walked away. Felicity had just turned back to her purse to pull out her tablet when she heard tapping and looked up to see Oliver staring down at her. A small smile was playing at her lips. "And call me Oliver."_

_Her answering smile lit up the room._

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><p>"I should probably add personal internet researcher of Oliver Queen to my job description," Felicity noted dully as she perused through the database. Glancing upward expectantly, she was positively pleased by the somewhat narrowed blue eyes staring her way. "Happily, might I add?" Oliver smirked at her.<p>

"I'm beginning to think you don't like me very much, Miss Smoak." She grinned.

"Not very much." Oliver laughed softly in response with that same stupid smile and twinkling eyes.

She really did hate his face.


	3. Arrows, Pantyhose, & Mistletoes

Summary: A true love story does not always begin with their eyes meeting and sparks flying instantly. It is in the moments afterwards – the legendary looks, the lingering touches, embraces that catch you by surprise. Most of all, it is in the way you learn that in order to be with that special person, you need to be able to be better – not for their sake, but because you want to be. And who can tell you that better than Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak? (AU-ish with a somewhat OC Felicity Smoak)

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Thanks to **chocolateluvah08** and **A1m0st1sN3v3rEn0ugh! **Your opinions are greatly appreciated. And if anyone else is pleased by what I have been doing thus far or have some literary criticism, I am open to them! Review please!

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><p>"You should go and say hi."<p>

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Angela!"

Felicity had had enough at this point and shot her friend a look. Angela rolled her eyes anyway. Because of the holidays (and despite the fact that Christmas wasn't until two weeks from Thursday), Queen Consolidated was in a very festive mood. Employees stuck mistletoes in various places (why there was one in front of a bathroom stall, Felicity would never know), there had been about five different gingerbread houses that would probably be destroyed and devoured before the day was out, somebody brought alcohol-infused eggnog (because _that_ wouldn't get _everyone_ in trouble), and there was a gift exchange that Felicity hadn't even known about until late last night. And then, as if the gods were just seriously not on her side, the Queen family decided to stop by for visits.

Which, to be completely honest, would not have been as bad if some of the more _forward_ females staff members didn't decide that _this_ was the time to make their presences known.

"No, but seriously – you should go save the poor baby!" Angela exclaimed, casting Felicity a sorrowful look. It almost served its purpose. Felicity watched as Claire from Marketing flipped her hair over her shoulder for the umpteenth time since she had garnered the elder Queen child's attention. A brief inkling of something, maybe annoyance, flashed over Oliver's face before he fixed the strawberry-blonde with a tight-lipped smile. Felicity bit the tip of her thumb, brow furrowed in contemplation.

"He looks fine." Even Felicity didn't believe herself.

"He looks tortured."

"Oliver Queen, too tortured for women? Where's the press?"

"You're being too cynical."

"Am not."

"Probably because you like him."

"No, I don't."

"Uh huh, sure."

"I don't."

"You kept that gift card," Angela remarked.

"I didn't spend it either."

"You usually throw gifts away." Felicity rolled her eyes at the thought. Her lips pressed into a thin line as Claire ran a delicate and pale finger down Oliver's chest. Long lashes batted at the man and her not-so-subtle shifting reminded Felicity of a cat in heat, or at least what would one would look like because she actually never has seen one. It just seemed like an accurate saying at a time like this.

"That's because they're usually from Steve and if I get _one_ more flash-drive from Steve –"

"Because you don't like Steve?"

"Yes."

"But you like Oliver?"

"Yes," Felicity answered quickly. It only took a second for her to realize what she had said and she turned quickly to a grinning Angela. "No, I mean…you know what? Forget it. I didn't mean anything. Take it how you want."

Ignoring her friend's now triumphant and bubbly appearance, Felicity's attention returned to Claire and Oliver. She really should feel bad. On one hand, she did. When Claire McDaniels was attracted to someone, she made it very evident. She was direct and near relentless in her pursuit of the man. And if Felicity had thought her own thoughts and verbal vomits scandalous, Claire was downright _salacious_. And seeing how Oliver kept doing this weird thing with his hands – he kept clenching and unclenching them at his sides, and Felicity was way too observant of the man, she noted – like he was extremely uncomfortable, she probably should help him. No one else seemed to be aware of his dilemma. So, Felicity should feel really, _really_ bad. On the other hand…

Felicity found it _hilarious_.

"Doesn't she wear pantyhose?" Felicity's head whipped back to Angela when the redhead uttered the question.

"What?"

Angela was tapping her chin thoughtfully, eyes focused on Claire. Felicity followed her gaze and her eyes immediately zoomed in on Claire's now bare legs. Felicity blinked.

"Isn't it like, twenty degrees outside?" Felicity inquired humorlessly.

"She had them on five minutes ago."

"And they said it was going to snow on Thursday, right?"

"She works fast." A beat later, Felicity and Angela chuckled, the brunette shaking her head at the ridiculousness of some of her co-workers. Finally, she glanced down at her cup to see that it was actually empty. She sighed.

"Getting more cider. Do you want any?" Angela was still focused on Claire's legs, watching as the pale limbs crossed over one another as Claire now leaned against the wall and folded her arms over her chest, pushing her cleavage upwardly beneath the thin material of her blouse.

"No."

Once inside one of the two kitchens on the twelfth floor, Felicity walked over to the long table in the middle of the room and began to fill her cup with hot cider from one of the various carafes. She noted, from the corner of her eye, the miniature Santa holding a present beside the carafe labeled for coffee. Smirking, she turned back around, about to head out.

"Mr. Queen."

Oliver leaned against the doorframe, the breadth of his shoulders nearly congruent with the width of the frame. Seeing him in a thick Henley that clung to biceps that looked too hardened and sculpted for a man lost on an island (again, something she mentally questioned, but never put to words) – his arms were folded over his own chest – and those two cups of eggnog she had earlier were doing some pretty bad things to her mind at the moment.

"I thought I told you to call me Oliver, Felicity." He spoke with a hint of a smile in his voice, though his face didn't portray such amusement. Or at least, it didn't look like he was smiling.

"Right, Oliver." Felicity distractedly circled the lip of the cup that she was probably holding too tightly with her pointer finger, trying to understand why she suddenly could not be in Oliver's presence.

She felt too aware of him, of blue eyes and stubble that looked dangerously attractive. Felicity even took to finding something above Oliver's head far more interesting than Oliver's eyes. Even though her brain was currently preoccupied with thoughts of the aforementioned facial hair. She wondered what they would feel like if she reached out and touched them; everyone wondered that, she corrected. It wasn't an issue that she, herself – the girl who told everyone that she was far from interested in _Mr. Queen_ and that any rumors about their possible ongoing affair should cease immediately – needed to contemplate any further on.

And yes, she concluded, drinking at work was the worst idea _ever_ constructed.

"Are you okay?" Oliver took a step forward and Felicity's eyes widened a fraction.

"No!" She cried and took an answering step back. Oliver's brow furrowed, he was lost. Then thinking, Felicity hurried to correct herself, "Not no as in, _no_ no but…" _Could you sound any more like a spazz?_ "I'm fine. It's just that…" She gestured above his head and they both took in the mistletoe hanging from the top of the doorframe. "…I don't particularly feel like dying two weeks before Christmas, thanks." Oliver cast a skeptical and confused look.

"You'd die?"

"Please, _Oliver Queen_ caught at a mistletoe with a lowly IT chick?" Felicity pretended to ignore the darkening of Oliver's gaze and her own curiosity about why. "That's a recipe for disaster." The corners of Oliver's mouth pulled up slightly and while the smile still didn't reach his face, she took it as she didn't insult him. _Good._

"I didn't realize I was so…popular." Felicity scoffed.

"Please, you're like Channing Tatum to a bunch of prepubescent teenagers," she commented wryly before shooing Oliver backwards so that she could exit the room, careful to make sure that they were never under the mistletoe at the same time. "His films aren't that great, but he's kinda sexy, so…"

"Who's Channing - ?"

"You left back in '07, Queen," Felicity said with a deadpan. "If you don't know who Channing Tatum is, we're going to have a serious problem." Oliver opened his mouth, as if to say something, but seemed to have opted not to. Instead, he seemed to mull over his words for a moment because seconds later, a smirk formed on his face and Felicity felt the sudden, indescribable urge to hide for some reason.

"So, people think I'm sexy?" Felicity rolled her eyes.

"Objectively, speaking."

"Do you?" Felicity's mouth dropped open and she almost dropped her cup. Just as she was about to sputter some poor excuse for a response, Thea Queen emerged from around the corner.

"Ollie!" The teen called and bounded over to the pair, at first not really paying the other brunette any mind. "Mom's looking for you. Apparently, we have a family lunch date or something, which sounds like an excuse to keep Walter with her for the day, but I digress. And don't think you can just skip out on me for some odd reason…" Finally, Thea seemed to notice her brother's companion and her eyes raked over the slim form of the woman she had never seen before. "Oh, who is –?"

"No one," Felicity hurriedly squeaked and walked in the opposite direction, glad for the distraction. Besides, Oliver had a _family lunch date_ or something…

…not like he had just _flirted_ with her or anything, right?

* * *

><p>Oliver had decided, earlier in the day, that Felicity Smoak was far more complicated than he originally believed.<p>

After their first few encounters, he had decided that Felicity was a rather fiery individual. Behind the black-rimmed glasses and bright colors was an equally bright individual who was not one for playing as anyone's fool. She could be direct, he decided, but only when she wanted to. It still surprised him that she, even though she initially looked as if he were some ingrate and idiot, actually decided to 'play' dumb and assist him in his endeavors. She never asked the obvious questions, never implored him any further than the light teasing they participated in every time he stepped in her space.

Even though he knew she wanted to.

"Hey."

Something inside of him was actually tickled that she honestly had been so lost in the contents of her tablet that she had not noticed his presence. Felicity had become just as aware of his presence as he was of hers. He noted the distance that they managed to maintain, the closeness neither of them wanted to acknowledge. He could not understand it, and it stunned him when he finally did realize it, but other than a desk or one seat, the two of them were never too far apart during their interactions. He had concluded, at one point, that the simple answer to the issue was to keep himself at a safer distance from the curly-haired IT specialist. But that was a lot easier said than done, he realized, as he thought about their earlier interaction.

Despite the aforementioned realization and decision on how to handle their future interactions, Oliver found himself inexplicably drawn to Felicity. She had tried to stay away, he noted, as this Claire person flirted with him, tenacious in her antics. But when Felicity's gaze wavered from his person, Oliver's was on her. He noted how she bit her thumb when she seemed to be thinking deeply, how her shoulders dropped and her full body seemed to move when she laughed with her friend – how her hair was now sleek again and shiny with large curls at the end of her ponytail that bounced off her shoulder and moved with the flick of her head – he noticed it all and wanted to be closer. Get a whiff of whatever perfume she used because the scent had been gnawing at him since that first time he sat beside her in her cubicle and he still had not put a name to the fragrance. See for sure the color of her lipstick for the day and whether or not she applied a gloss and no, he was not going to acknowledge why he actually _focused_ on her mouth. Those weren't thoughts he needed to think about.

Even though he was.

A lot more than he was willing to admit.

"Don't you knock?" Felicity demanded while pressing her tablet against chest and trying to mentally calm her now frantic heart. She glowered at the amusement on Oliver's face. _Stupid face._

"Felicity, this is the IT department, not the ladies' room," he countered and Felicity was two seconds from flipping him the bird.

"Like you would know how the latter looks," she sneered.

"Actually –"

"Don't," she snapped, pointing a finger at him after sliding her tablet into a drawer. "Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence!" She did not need to know about any of Oliver's rendezvous with his mother's employees from the past, _ever_. Putting his hands up in mock surrender, Oliver chuckled.

"Fine, fine. I won't."

"Good." Felicity clasped her hands then on the desk, staring up at the male expectantly. "What can I do you for?" A beat later and Felicity cringed, "What can I do for you?" _Nope, still don't like how it sounds._ "What do you want?" Meanwhile, Oliver's ever-present smirk morphed into a smile and for a second, it looked like he would just guffaw at her embarrassment. Felicity narrowed her eyes at him, especially when Oliver tried to maintain some sort of innocent expression. "I'm glad you find me amusing, Mr. Queen."

"Sensational."

Felicity had to tell herself not to feel as flattered as she did.

"My buddy, Steve, is really into archery. Apparently, it's all the rage…" Oliver began after clearing his throat, which led to another request from Oliver Queen, this time about arrows and archery, which any other IT specialist who was not Felicity would have probably already turned down. However, despite herself – her beliefs that these were definitely more than harmless requests and her fear that Oliver was putting, not only himself in danger, but her as well (and why did she come second when it came to said fear?) – Felicity was already looking up the information he wanted. After she jotted down the necessary address, she handed him the sticky note.

"There you go," she exclaimed with a small smile. Oliver peered down at the note in his hands, his face unreadable. And then he looked up at her, his own small smile painted on his face.

"Felicity…" He even seemed to say her name differently, softly, and Felicity was probably reading into this way too much for her own good. She had already drank four cups of water since her stint with eggnog earlier; surely, she should be over whatever she was on earlier. "You're remarkable." Her cheeks felt suddenly hot and to ignore the sudden swarm of butterflies in her stomach, she opted for a safer response:

"I know." Oliver full-out laughed. She didn't even think he meant to and smiled, triumphant. "But thanks for remarking on it." Shaking his head in amusement, he stood.

"Merry Christmas." He was almost out the door when Felicity called to him.

"I'm Jewish." Oliver gave her a smile that should have been illegal.

"Happy Hanukkah."

To sum it up, Felicity should never have spiked anything and Oliver Queen in one day.

She started looking into things too deeply for her own liking.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Comments:<strong>

So, this turned out to be longer than I originally expected, partly because I almost merged two episodes into one. But it's out and I'm satisfied, somewhat.

Anyway, I hope the story is alright thus far.

Again, please review!


	4. Too Close

Summary: A true love story does not always begin with their eyes meeting and sparks flying instantly. It is in the moments afterwards – the legendary looks, the lingering touches, embraces that catch you by surprise. Most of all, it is in the way you learn that in order to be with that special person, you need to be able to be better – not for their sake, but because you want to be. And who can tell you that better than Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak? (AU-ish with a somewhat OC Felicity Smoak)

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

><p>In the last three weeks since he had seen her, Oliver Queen had learned three important things about Felicity Smoak: 1) She was currently twenty-four years old, which was a lot younger than Oliver dared to be okay with [she apparently graduated from MIT during the same year that she came of legal drinking age], 2) she spent a lot of her lunch breaks (too many, if Angela had anything to say about it, and she had a lot to say when Oliver had approached her) at her cubicle, and 3) she loved red wine. Which was why he knew she would probably feel more inclined to help him on this case.<p>

And why he was in a pleasant mood when he approached her. Not that he was ever in a bad mood when it came to Felicity. She seemed to do that to him.

"And here I was beginning to think my days as Oliver Queen's personal computer geek were coming to an end," Felicity remarked in a faux cheery and teasing tone, putting down her container of Chinese take-out. He smelled the various spices the second he walked into the room and caught the tail-end of Felicity's tongue as it swiped her lower lip to catch some small remnant of sauce from her Singapore rice-noodles.

"Is that your way of saying that you miss me?" He inquired.

"No," was her very quick response. "But if it works for you, go with it." Her face betrayed nothing, but a beat later and the sound of Oliver's answering chuckle had her giggling. Oliver decided that he very much enjoyed that sound.

"So, a friend of mine is throwing a scavenger hunt and there's a case of Lafite Rothschild 1982 waiting at the end." Oliver tried not to look too smug at the sight of her slightly dazed brown eyes. Felicity, in turn, could feel her body practically vibrating with want. When was the last time she had such a delicious treat?

"Say no more," she told him and stretched her hand out expectantly. Not missing a beat, a USB drive was in her palm and Oliver was rounding the corner of her desk to stand behind her chair. Felicity was too busy focusing on the new item and connecting it to her computer to notice.

Oliver, however, had no such luck.

While the brown-skinned beauty worried about the protection embedded on the drive and Oliver fed her a horrible lie about bodyguards, against all reason he took a whiff of her hair. Nutty with a sweet warmth, there was an actual name to the scent that Oliver found himself far more distracted about than he should have been. The polished dark curls had a sheen that could be seen from the dim lights of the area and he was half tempted to reach out and graze the hair, feel the thick silk-spun strands glide over the callouses of his hands…

No.

He almost didn't catch the edge to her voice when she made the comment about his friend.

"The idle rich are hard to entertain," Oliver replied, far more tense than he wanted to be and more than ready to be as far away from Felicity Smoak as he could be. He shouldn't have allowed himself to be as close as he currently was. "Listen, you get through it and one of those bottles is yours." He couldn't have gotten out of there fast enough.

He also didn't know that challenging Felicity Smoak was a sure fire way to distract her for the rest of the day.

Especially when wine was involved.

* * *

><p>"Seriously, how long does it take to do your hair?" Angela called from the living room, her lithe body draped over Felicity's couch with her oversized tee shirt (one that Felicity was pretty sure the redhead stole from her brother at MIT, but she wasn't going to point that out) that was currently grazing the tops of her thighs because of the way she was lying down. "I wanna watch some Winchester abs…" A short laugh could be heard from the bathroom down the hall.<p>

"Forgive me for having not-so-perfect-hair unlike _some_ people, which is extremely unfair, by the way." Angela rolled her eyes, bored, and reached over lazily to grab a slice of pizza from the take-out box. The sound of clattering followed by low cursing came after Felicity's exclamation before she finally emerged from the bathroom, hair still somewhat damp. A jar of cream was in her hands. "You would think, as much as _you_ like to play with my hair, you could _appreciate_ the hard work I put into it."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…I would appreciate it more if someone else was playing in your hair, preferably Oliver Queen." Felicity groaned and shoved Angela's way too long legs off the other end of the couch. Plopping down, she folded her own legs beneath her body to sit comfortably. To be completely honest, Felicity didn't want to discuss her dealings with Oliver Queen. Was she semi-disappointed that she couldn't get any red wine out of their deal? No - more like _pissed_. Beyond annoyed. Perhaps it said something about her personality that she was so addicted to something as simple as red wine, but she couldn't bring herself to care. And Angela bringing him up at the moment was _not_ helping either.

"This again?"

"Yes, _this_ again," Angela insisted. Felicity rolled her eyes (she always seemed to be doing this when Angela was around) and set to working with her hair.

After way too much time experimenting with her hair during her college years, Felicity had discovered a very deep love for shea butter and the wonders it did for her after she applied her leave-in conditioner. Angela loved the sweet nutty fragrance; Felicity loved how soft her natural curls felt. The tight ringlets felt like pure silk beneath her hands after her hair was dry and the butter had seeped into her locks, effectively making them shinier and easier to manage. Too many nights of her childhood was spent with her mother yanking a comb through her hair roughly, willing the thick and knotted strands to obey her. Too many of those nights were spent with Felicity having a bad headache and willing the style to last through the night.

"This is what, the fifth time he's come down to your cubicle?" Angela continued, pausing only to take another bite of her pizza which Felicity took as her opportunity to interject.

"For consultation."

"And you really expect me to believe that during all the time that he's been _consulting_ with you that _you_ haven't been checking him out?" Felicity faltered in the middle of twisting a few locks of hair. She would blow it out and run flat-irons over her hair before work.

"Why does that even matter?"

"You're avoiding the question."

"Because it's a ridiculous question."

"Not as ridiculous as _Oliver Queen_ being interested in computers all of a sudden," Angela shot back and Felicity bit her lower lip. _Damn it._ "And what kind of excuse is that, anyway? The Oliver Queen from five years ago barely even liked answering his cell phone, let alone this sudden interest in computers."

Felicity understood what Angela was saying, she really did. The lame excuses she came up with to keep her actual deeds for Oliver Queen a secret were nearly as bad as the bullshit excuses he fed her on a regular. However, while she understood her friend's disbelief and astonishment that Felicity would lie to her – _her_, of all people – she couldn't help but feel…aggravated by Angela's insistence on who Oliver Queen was. She felt…protective, if that made sense.

"And like you said, that was _five years ago_," she replied, too stiff for the typical Felicity response. And Angela noticed. "However, you didn't know him then and you don't know him now. So, just drop it, okay?" Felicity chanced it and glanced at her friend only to avert her gaze. The impassive stare Angela was shooting her way was too unnerving, it was like the redhead was looking for something.

"Okay." Came the soft response and for a moment, Felicity believed that she had killed the vibe for their sleepover. Which would be super awesome and proof why she sucked at life. But then she heard the sound of a can opening and Angela taking an overdramatic drink of soda pop. "But don't think I won't bring it up again. You two are like, almost as big as The Hood on the rumor mill."

"Who the hell came up with that name anyway? It sounds half-assed, if you asked me," Felicity remarked, glad to finally move on to something else.

"They very well couldn't call him Robin Hood."

"It would have made much more sense."

Part of her reason for defending this stranger wielding a bow and arrow was because she was kinda fascinated and slightly understanding. The Hood didn't seem to be hurting anyone that wasn't already hurting someone else. From the intel Felicity gathered from various articles (not to mention her very-secret-and-not-to-be-discussed hacking into the police records), these were criminals disguised as legitimate businessmen – people who would have gotten away with their schemes had this 'Hood' guy not appeared. So, as far as she was concerned, he wasn't that bad.

Well, murder shouldn't have to be the first option to stopping crime, but who was she to judge?

Before Angela could begin her rant about superhero code names and the like, the annoying and long melody Angela had chosen as Felicity's doorbell resounded through the townhouse, floating over the peals of laughter and arguing of the two females. Sharing a quick look with her friend, Felicity set the items on her lap on the table before hurrying over to the front door, softly padding against the hardwood floors. Not seeing anyone at the door, Felicity glanced over at her closet for a moment, contemplating the aluminum baseball bat she stored there.

"You can never be too sure," her mom had said.

Opening the door, Felicity was immediately struck by the icy breeze that grazed her warm flesh, causing Goosebumps to appear on her skin and her nipples hardening instantly beneath her tank top. Pursing her lips, she was about to turn back around, but for some reason, she glanced down to see a glass bottle with a gold ribbon tied around the neck and a card attached to the side. Puzzled, Felicity picked the bottle up before her eyes widened.

This was Lafite Rothschild _1982_.

"What the –?"

"Who is it?" Angela called, shifting slightly on the couch though not exactly getting up. Not answering immediately, Felicity plucked the card from the cold bottle. The handwriting was way too familiar for her not to know who this was from. Without even realizing it, a wide smile broke out on her face.

"Just a friend," she finally replied and closed the door, reading over the note again.

She never noticed the man on top of a few buildings away from hers, smiling before disappearing into the cold December night.


	5. Two Feet Standing On A Principle

Summary: A true love story does not always begin with their eyes meeting and sparks flying instantly. It is in the moments afterwards – the legendary looks, the lingering touches, embraces that catch you by surprise. Most of all, it is in the way you learn that in order to be with that special person, you need to be able to be better – not for their sake, but because you want to be. And who can tell you that better than Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak? (AU-ish with a somewhat OC Felicity Smoak)

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

><p>"Thanks for meeting me," Felicity said as she approached. Oliver only smiled in response, gesturing to the open seat next to him. She took it, grateful. "I wasn't sure if I should come to your house."<p>

"It's okay," he reassured her.

Expelling the breath she had not been aware that she had been holding, Felicity stared at Oliver levelly. For weeks, she had been suppressing the urge to just blurt out everything – how Walter came to her with the request, the information he demanded that she keep secret, how it all tied to his mother. Every moment that he came to her was another moment she was tempted to just let it all out. But she hadn't. And Walter has been gone longer than anyone has been comfortable with and the book in her purse felt heavier than any textbook she carried back in college. Felicity found herself sighing again when Oliver tilted his head curiously.

"The thing is, I've been debating whether or not to share this with you for weeks." Oliver nodded slowly and carefully, not sure where she was going with this. Her call earlier in the afternoon had surprised him. Even more-so did her voice, which was softer and more tentative than he had ever heard her speak. Bringing him back from his thoughts was the impeccably sharp stare she was giving him, the dark depths threatening to lure him into their endless vortex. "Can I trust you?"

Oliver's face scrunched up instantly.

"Queen, don't play me for a fool," she said quickly. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I have a very high IQ. Don't think for a second that I haven't noticed you dropping some fairly _ridiculous_ lies on me." Her pointed stare had Oliver averting his gaze momentarily.

Yeah, a lot of his lies had been pretty ridiculous.

Like the one from last month.

* * *

><p><em>"Felicity, hey!" Oliver called, trying to keep his voice light while maintaining some kind of balance as he approached the brunette. Hearing her name, Felicity twirled around, pointer finger tapping her chin thoughtfully as she appraised Oliver's form.<em>

_"You look like something the cat dragged in," she commented and got lost in some story about cats actually getting into Queen Consolidated, which Oliver probably would have been more amused about if he didn't have Vertigo in his system. He blinked distractedly, dazed, at the window behind Felicity's head before having to shut his eyes._

_"Would you mind stepping away from the window for a moment? I have a little bit of a hangover." Que the raised eyebrow and Felicity moving so that it was she that was facing the window._

_"It sounds like you need a Bloody Mary and a pretzel, not the IT department." She noted Diggle's discreet smirk and returned the sentiment, arms folded over her chest as she returned her gaze to Oliver Queen._

_"Actually, my buddy, Kevin, is starting an energy drink company," he explained._

_"You seem to have a lot of buddies these days."_

_"Longtime friends."_

_"That no one has ever seen in the papers."_

_"What can I say? I have a more photogenic face," Oliver joked and Felicity rolled her eyes, half-tempted to punch him in the arm if he didn't look like he'd topple over any second. "Anyway, he says that it's fantastic for curing hangovers, but I am very particular about what it is that I put in my body." Felicity didn't even pay attention, initially, to the syringe he was pulling out. She was too busy observing said body, noting that Oliver Queen definitely fit his 'bad boy' image with the black leather jacket he was sporting._

_"I've noticed," she stated absent-mindedly._

_Oliver froze, hand carefully gripping the syringe. He had been complimented several times in his life by several different people, men and women. Some his age, others bordering his mother's age group. Some had been more forward than others, granted. So, why now did her one comment have blood rushing immediately to his cheeks? Clearing his throat of the nervousness, he stared down at Felicity – had she always been this tiny? – and noticed that she was very much not correcting herself or fumbling over her words._

_"Not babbling today?" Did his voice squeak or was that just him?_

_"Nope," she replied crisply, emphasizing the pop of the 'p.' "Definitely meant what I just said."_

_Was that the truth? Yes, she did mean it. Who wouldn't mean it? Did she actually mean to say it? No. And it took sheer will power not to squeak and apologize or something along those lines. However, the expression on Oliver's face – the widened eyes, his body's inability to move, the color that rushed to his face – had her unable to just cross it off as one of her horrible babbling incidents. It was an exhilarating feat, she realized, to actually get Oliver Queen in such a state. How many people could say they accomplished that? Oliver, in an attempt to bottle up the embarrassment, tried to speak but a low chuckle that really wanted to be a laugh halted his movements. He needed to clear his throat again before he began talking. Diggle coughed, amusement shining in his dark eyes._

_"Um, I'm trying to find the recipe. Could you please do a spectro-analysis of this sample and find out exactly where in the city it's made?" Felicity took the item from him, running her eyes over it. She wasn't a fan of needles or many sharp, point objects. But that wasn't what her mind was focused on. She gripped the syringe daintily, giving Oliver a pointed look._

_"Queen, you do know that I graduated from MIT with a 4.0 GPA, right?"_

_"Umm…."_

_"Even if you didn't, you should be aware that I am much smarter than you seem to give me credit for," she stated. "If it's supposed to be an energy drink, why is it in a syringe?"_

_"I ran out of sports bottles." Diggle had to walk away. Oliver swallowed thickly as Felicity bit the inside of her cheek, lips pressed tightly together. She opened her mouth for a second and he prepared himself for the onslaught of words that never came. Instead, she sighed, heavily, and gave him a wary look._

_"Queen, you test my patience," she muttered and walked away._

* * *

><p>Okay, so he wasn't the greatest liar. Oliver could admit that much.<p>

"However, I still feel like I can trust you," Felicity said quietly, staring at him imploringly. "Why is that?"

"I guess I just have that sort of face." Felicity deadpanned. "Kidding, kidding. You can trust me, Felicity."

"You need a better book of jokes if all of them pertain to your face," she informed him as she reached into her purse and pulled out the small book. Oliver's eyes zeroed in on it and he inwardly hoped the recognition didn't reach his face. When she handed it to him, Oliver pretended to flip through the pages as if it were the first time he had seen the contents. "Have you seen this before?"

"Where did you get it?" His voice was lower than normal.

"From your step-father," she replied and Oliver's eyes shot back up to her. Felicity swallowed, fiddling with the sleeves of her coat. "He said that he found it in your house." She lowered her voice and gaze when she said the rest. "That it belonged to your mother." Felicity then went to explain how Walter had approached her to look into it and her fears for the contents and Walter's life. And a part of Oliver was listening, he truly was. Another part of him was also thinking about the mother he was beginning to think he didn't know much about. A bigger part, clearer than the rest, spoke loudly:

Felicity Smoak was someone he could trust, maybe, with his biggest secret yet.


End file.
